Chapter 8
Eight
Elowen’s steps slowed as she approached the lake’s clearing, sunlight breaking through the trees in long, slanted shafts of gold.
Something pale caught her eye, and she froze.
There, nestled right where she always sat, next to where she had once buried that shimmering black-and-gold mystery, was a new gift.
It was a stone. Smooth and polished, pale as moonlight, veined with thin streaks of lavender and rose. She bent to pick it up, brushing dirt from its surface with a gentle thumb. It wasn’t something that could be mistaken for natural placement. It had been set there. Left there.
Her heart beat harder.
She glanced around the lake’s edge, scanning the trees for signs of anyone. But the forest was quiet.
A small smile curved slowly across her lips.
She knew it wasn't a coincidence. Something—someone—had left this for her. Not a villager. No one from her home would bother with such a strange, lovely token. This…felt different.
It felt kind. It felt thoughtful, as if it was chosen specifically because she thought it would be pretty.
She sat carefully beside the water, her knees folding beneath her skirt. Holding the stone close, she let her fingers run over its surface again and again, like it was something sacred.
In a world where she wasn’t allowed to own anything of beauty…someone was giving her gifts.
The ache in her chest loosened just slightly.
She gathered herbs slowly, savoring her time here. The lake, the flowers, the trees; this was the only place in the world that didn’t ask her to change. Here, she didn’t need to hide her gentleness. She didn’t need to pretend she didn’t care. She could just be.
She had just finished clipping a cluster of wildflowers when she felt it: a presence.
Weight in the air, like a storm fast approaching. Elowen turned, and froze. Across the clearing, half-shielded by a dense cluster of trees, stood a creature of legend.
Its body gleamed like burnished obsidian in the filtered light, dull-pointed scales layered like impenetrable armor.
Its wings were folded carefully at its back, the membranes stretched carefully along elongated bones.
Horns jutted from its skull in perfectly symmetrical angles.
The light shifted and caught its intelligent eyes.
Gold. Bright, brilliant, ancient gold cut with deep black vertical pupils.
The world narrowed to that gaze. Its tongue flicked over rows of jagged teeth as it studied her in silence.
Smoke coiled faintly from its nostrils. Each talon that jutted from its four legs sank into the earth with immense weight.
Sharp. Deadly. The tail, many times longer than a human was tall, sat behind it, motionless.
It was enormous, so large that her eyes struggled to take it all in at once, but it was coiled low to the ground as if trying not to frighten her.
It was a dragon.
Elowen’s breath caught. Her knees locked.
It didn’t move closer. It didn’t growl or bare its teeth. It simply…watched her.
Elowen’s hands trembled around her stone, holding it close to her heart as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
She should have been afraid. Terrified. Screaming.
But she wasn’t.
Even with her heart pounding, even with every instinct telling her she was staring at death incarnate, she felt no fear.
Only wonder.
The dragon blinked slowly. Elowen dared a step forward. Then another. “H…hello.”
The dragon tilted its head, as if trying to understand. Or maybe…as if listening. Elowen swallowed hard. It did not offer an answer, but the air between them felt charged, like a struck bell still humming.
A sudden low growl trembled through its chest. The sound rolled across the clearing like distant thunder, making the air vibrate. The movement was not a threat, but an instinctive recoil, a memory of fear that lived in bone.
When she continued to step closer, she watched the body of the beast tighten as if ready to strike. She quickly took a step backward and carefully sunk to her knees, the stone still close to her chest, as a gesture of safety and submission.
“I won’t hurt you,” she whispered.
The dragon growled, low and quiet in warning.
Its tail curled protectively near its haunches, but its gaze never wavered.
Heat radiated from it in slow waves, distorting the air the way flames warped the horizon.
Its breath rolled across her skin like warm wind from an ancient forge, carrying the scent of smoke.
And Elowen understood, it was afraid, too. Not of her, but of what she might do, what her people had done before. This creature, this majestic, powerful thing—was a survivor. A relic of the old world. Unwelcome. Misunderstood.
Just like her.
She watched the dragon’s eyes flicker to the stone in her hand, and she suddenly had a foolish, wild thought, that the dragon had left it for her, along with the rose still hidden in her home.
She didn’t know how long they sat there in silence. Minutes, maybe hours. But eventually, with the sun lowering, she stepped back, placing the stone back where she had found it.
The dragon followed her movement with his eyes but didn’t pursue.
“I can’t bring it, but I’ll come back,” Elowen said softly, her voice barely a breath. “And I won’t tell them. I promise.”